


Lost

by Kasymy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-02 22:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12735870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasymy/pseuds/Kasymy
Summary: Bobby finds two scared, injured children hiding in his yard. The damn brats are running from something, and to top things off they won’t leave him alone either.(The kids aren't, I repeat, are not Sam and Dean.)





	Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened...
> 
> It really just started with the idea of Bobby acquiring kids and took on a life of its own. I want this to focus more on Bobby than the kids, but who knows if that will happen. Honestly, this will probably branch out into a series since in my typical fashion this is a crossover, just not an apparent one at first and extremely pre-series for the other show that is a part of this - which is why it's not tagged.

     Bobby Singer woke up at his desk. Something that shouldn’t be happening as often as it did. He supposed that, this is what he got for trying to pull back to back all-nighters while drinking. Half awake, he stumbled to the kitchen, knocking over a small tower of books.

     Coffee in his system and considerably more awake, Bobby noticed that his kitchen was more of a mess than usual. He would have had to been in a dead sleep to not hear the place being ransacked in a half-hearted search for something.

     Whatever it was had to have been human and clearly not looking for anything valuable seeing as they stuck to his kitchen. He supposed it could have been the local kids, but he just couldn’t figure out why. Still, they had been sloppy, maybe they thought he wasn’t home. Admittedly, he hasn’t been home much recently.

     “What in the hell?”

     He touched a speck of something that look awfully familiar.

     Blood.

 

 

     This wasn’t making a lick of sense. A pint sized burglar broke into his house sometime after 1am, presumably stole food, trashing his kitchen in the process and somehow trailed blood out of said kitchen. Bobby grabbed a shotgun full of rock salt, following the trail outside. The blood trail, looked almost like someone had tried to stop the bleeding while walking and carrying something. There were several spots on the ground where something had been dropped. Whoever this was didn’t know how to cover their tracks, then again, his theory that is was some kid, held water with the size of the footprints.

     Everything lead him to the row of cars farthest away from the house. There was no way of sneaking up on these kids, they had picked the best strategic position they could find. Which was strange in of itself. What kinda kid knew things like that.

     Steadying himself, he moved soundlessly towards an old car with a sleeve poking out of it. Shotgun in front of him, safety firmly on and finger nowhere near the trigger he nudged the door open. Creaking something fierce it fell open, the occuppants of the back seat scrambled.

     There were two of them, a girl crouched in front of a boy protectively.

     “Balls.” He whispered to himself rubbing his temples, and taking a step back. They didn’t look any older than seven. Seven and pressed the back seat of a car terrified and in the only place where they thought they’d be safe. A half rundown salvage yard. It didn’t take a genius to see they were running from something.

     “Look, I’m not going to hurt you.” Kneeling down, he placed the gun on the ground and held his hands up, “See?”

     The girl darted out, grabbing the gun, and aimed at him. Giving him a better look at the boy behind her. His arm was twisted all wrong, broken and not the type that happened accidentally.

     “Easy there.” Bobby called, thanking his lucky stars that he grabbed one loaded with rock salt and not live ammo, “You’ll knock yourself out with the recoil on that thing.”

     She looked at the gun and back to him, before switching the safety off and bracing herself.

     “Now girl do you really want to shoot me? I don’t think you know what kinda mess you’re gonna be in for if you pull that trigger.” Bobby tried, doing his best to stay calm, the last thing these two needed was him going off on them. They were terrified enough.

     “Look, you’re obviously running from something. Shooting me, won’t help you. Besides that boy behind you, needs his arm set or it’s going to heal all wrong and he won’t be able to use it or the doctors will just have to break it again, and that’s a pain no one needs.”

     “Lucia.” The boy whispered clinging to the girl’s arm. Bobby didn’t know if the boy said anything else but the girl, seemed to crumble in on herself a bit.

     “Fine. Alright, Carlos.” Lucia locked eyes with Bobby once more, this time was different, her eyes were softer, more like a child who been trying her damnedest to keep everything together even after the shit hits the fan.

     “Think you can hand me the gun?” Bobby asked gently. Lucia, flicked the safety back on before tossing it to him.

     “I- I- I think we need a doctor.” The boy, Carlos stated cradling his broken arm.

     “No. No doctors, they’ll find us, Carlos.” Lucia chided him while helping him out of the car.

     “Uh, I might know a guy that could fix up his arm. He’s not a doctor per say, but he knows what he’s doing and he has the right equipment.”

     Carlos looked to Lucia, who was clearly lost in thought. It was all Bobby could do, not to swear to every deity he could think of. Someone put these two through hell. Lucia looked back at Bobby watching his face before nodding.

     “No cops?”

     “No cops.” Bobby reassured her. She bit her lip, looking at Carlos’ arm and the gash on her leg that needed stitches, she did a damn good job at packing the wound but that was only stalling the inevitable.

     “Okay.”

     “Okay, ah good. Uh, you two should probably come up to the house and I’ll call him.”

 

 

 

     Bobby had no idea what the hell he was doing. He had two kids in his house. Two injured, scared kids in his house sitting on his couch. He caught himself before he downed a glass a scotch. That would hardly help.

     “Ah, I’ll make that phone call.” Bobby said awkwardly shuffling to the phones.

 

 

     “Lucia your leg is bleeding again.” Carlos pointed out, handing her the shirt they had been slowly tearing away at for bandages.

     “I know… Carlos, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” She hung her head low, the stress of the past few weeks weighing on her. Now that they were for all intensive purposes safe.

     “None of this was your fault. You got us here, you got us food and you even did your best to keep us in good condition. And we’re safe here.” Carlos reassured holding her hand with his good hand.

     “But for how long?” Lucia asked, looking at the gruff man who was trying to stop from yelling into the phone.

     “I don’t know Lucia. He could have just called the cops and been done with us.”

     “I know. He also didn’t panic when I shoved a shotgun in his face.”

 

 

     Hanging up the phone, Bobby walked back to the two kids.

     “He’s a few days out but I can splint your arm and stitch up that leg. I know that much anyway.”

     “My leg?” Lucia gripped the wound tightly, narrowing her eyes.

     “Ah, it’s not going to heal properly. You did an admirable job of packing it, but I’m guessing it’s not a simple puncture if it keeps opening up.”

     The two kids looked between each other, Carlos nudging Lucia.

     “Fine. Carlos first.”

     “Right. Carlos and Lucia are those your names?” Walking around Bobby grabbed a first aid kit, a cardboard box and an old torn up shirt, that he had just lying around.

     “Yes.” Lucia confirmed, but didn’t offer up any more information.

     “Nice to meet you I guess, I’m Bobby Singer.” Pulling a knife out he cut down the cardboard to be approximately the length of the Carlos’s forearm. “I need you to roll up your sleeve.”

     “Lucia?” Carlos asked and she promptly went to pull back the sweater sleeve. She was extremely careful not to touch his skin. Bobby could tell it was bruise was far worse than it looked.

     “Good, now this will hurt, but, it will keep that limb from getting knocked around.” Bobby began building the splint, gently moving the kid’s arm into place when he needed to. Carlos for his part, was leaning against Lucia, probably falling back into shock with the fresh pain. The sound of bones grinding together sent chills down Bobby’s spine.

     “It hurts.” Carlos whispered, through his labored breathing..

     “I know. I’m sorry about it kid, but you need a splint, no two ways about it.”

     “Remember, what I taught you.” Lucia whispered, letting him, clutching her hand in a vice.

     “One word.” Carlos replied, teeth gritted through the pain.

     “Over and over.” Lucia encouraged, doing her best to soothe him despite how clearly out of her element she was. At least that made two of them, Bobby thought.

     “And- and…” Carlos couldn’t quite get his words out.

     “Relax.” Lucia helpfully supplied, “Relax. One word, over and over again.”

     He didn’t comment on the exchange. It was certainly a strange one, there was no debate on that, but he’d heard it before. Different words. Same technic. Only question was how in hell two kids knew a technic like that.

     “Right.” Carlos said, taking a deep breath, tension slowly seeping away as he did as Lucia said. With Carlos relaxed and actively blocking out any pain he felt, getting the splint assembled was significantly easier.

     “The splint’s done, I just need to make the sling.” Bobby explained tying the sleeves of the shirt together before cutting off any excess. Carlos passed out somewhere in between the pain, the endorphins and sheer focus to block all that out.

     “Good.”

     “Now about your leg. I take it you packed it yourself, did you sterilize anything?” Bobby focused on her, she seemed to be the brains of the two. Alone she didn’t seem so young, her eyes were sharp taking everything in, looking far older than herself.

     “Ah yeah, I stole a bottle of your um… Scotch I think.”

     “Well, at least you knew to do that much. I’m going to have to drench that wound again. How long ago did that happen?”

     “I- I don’t know. A few days, maybe?”

     “Balls!” Bobby yelled before remembering himself, “Sorry.”

     “Don’t be. It’s fine.” She didn’t clarify any further. It seemed to be a pattern with her, being purposefully vague that is.

     “I’m going to have to cut it open again. It can’t wait till my friend gets here and the last thing either of us needs is for an infection to set in. Might have to cauterize it. You know that means.”

     “I’m familiar with it.”

     “Right.” Bobby nodded and for what was probably the fifth time this morning he questioned what the hell happened to these kids. He hid his clenched fists. Humans. That’s what happened and he knew it. Witches, Vampires, Ghosts, monsters he understood. He’d never understand this. “I’m going to grab a few more supplies, but if you could roll up your pant leg, that would help. Don’t pull whatever you packed in there out.”

      Lucia nodded and worked the fabric up her leg. Watching Bobby pick up various items and compare various knives, Lucia wondered absently why he hadn’t asked yet. There was one question everyone asked. Teachers, police, doctors, strangers, therapists, counselors, investigators. _Everyone_ asked it.

      “Lift your leg up.” He placed a large basin under her foot.

      “I take it I need to take my shoe and sock off.”

      “Yeah, ah- how old are you?”

      “I don’t know really. Somewhere between 7-10, same with Carlos, though I think he’s younger.” Lucia answered after recovering from her shock.

      “Got it.” With that Bobby went to the kitchen grabbing a beer and a bottle of cheap vodka, “Normally you’d be numbed up before getting stitches but I don’t have anything for that. So you can take a few, and I mean a few sips of this. It tastes like piss, but it will take the edge off.”

     “Beer? You’re giving me beer?” Lucia held the bottle away from her bottle, eying it with disgust.

     “Patching you up is going to hurt, more than when it happened. And if worse comes to worse and I have to cauterize it, you’ll be wanting some of that in your system.”

     “Fine.” Lucia nearly gagged on the taste of it, the burn making her eyes water, “How do adults drink this shit.”

     “I warned you it tastes like piss.” Bobby chuckled a bit, ignoring the girl’s language. He was hardly in a position to judge.

     “How much of this do I need to drink again?”

     “If you can manage three more sips, that should do it. You should feel the effects pretty quickly, but stop if your head gets too cloudy or if you start to feel sleepy.”

     “I think I can do that.” The girl took one big gulp and swallowed as fast as she could before erupting into a fit of coughs.

     “I told you to take sips for a reason, but that was an admirable effort I’ll give you that.” He laughed, taking the bottle from her. She’d probably had enough at this point.

     “Still tastes like shit.”

     “That never part changes.” Bobby took some tweezers and started pulling what looked like part of a shirt out of the girl’s leg. It was surreal, like that magic trick with the scarf that wouldn’t end, even though in reality it was probably only a few inches of material.

     Once he’d completely exposed the wound he could see why. It was like the girl got caught in a bear trap and pulled her leg out forcefully. There were these jagged gaping punctures with gashes trailing from them. Thankfully, it didn’t smell like rotting flesh, she’d probably dodged necrosis by the skin of her teeth. However, the healing skin was all the wrong though, discolored and inflamed.

     “You doing alright?”

     “Yeah.”

     “That’s good I suppose. I’m going to have to cut what’s already started to heal so we can treat it properly, but I might have to cauterize some veins to stop the bleeding. Then I think I can pull the skin together in some parts.”

     “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

     “It’s not, but I don’t want to risk an infection, so this what we’re doing.” Bobby explained pouring Vodka on her wound. Lucia didn’t even make a sound as he cut the healing skin out evening the wound out. It was different from patching himself or other hunters up. Felt all wrong, this wasn’t a result of a successful hunt with the standard patch up and drinks. This was a little girl, a little human girl he was cutting into - even if it was to stop her from losing that leg.

     “Go ahead.” Lucia said completely out of the blue.

     “Go ahead what?”

     “Ask. Everyone asks.” She pushed being purposefully vague once again. It seemed she only gave out as little information as possible.

     “Kid… I don’t need to ask about what I already know.” Bobby told her threading the needle. Lucia fell silent once more even as Bobby began stitching her up. It was eerie how calm and controlled she was.

     “Can you feel pain?” Bobby asked, wondering if he might actually have to take them or at least her to the hospital. He’d have to jump a few towns over, and use fake ids if he wanted to cover their tracks, but he doubted there was an Amber alert out for them.

     “Yes. I’m just good at blocking it out.”

     “Hm. How did you learn to do that by the way? I’ve heard the technic before, but never like it was being explained to a child.”

     “Because it was. Only thing I can remember before…”

     “Before all of this.” Bobby finished, tying off the thread before sniping it.

     “Yeah. I’d… I’d been roughed up pretty bad. Then there’s this voice, telling me how to calm down. How to block out pain.”

     “A voice?” He raised an eyebrow, grabbing the gauze, and started packing the gaping part of the wound.

     “Yeah, I don’t remember who he was, I never saw him. All I know is that was the last time I heard it. It’s served me well ever since.”

     “Kid.” Bobby started, not sure what you tell a child about all of this. Hell, it could just be a memory she couldn’t quite recall, or… or it could be a ghost or something else chasing these two. He was a damn fool, trying to make a monster responsible what they’d been through. A monster was easier to deal with.

    “I know. I’ve heard it all before.”

    “Geez, kid. The pair of you are a couple of hard knocks.”

    “Hard knocks?”

    “Ah, nevermind.” Bobby dismissed, he started picking up the supplies.

    “I wouldn’t have shot you.” Lucia announced just before Bobby was out of earshot.

    “It wouldn’t have mattered if you did. Things full of rock salt, would have hurt and torn up my clothes, not kill me.”

    “Oh… Why do you have a shotgun full of rock salt?”

    "Why do you know how to fire a shotgun and brace yourself for the recoil?” Bobby fired back, preferring to keep these two in the dark about everything that goes bump in the night.

    “I don’t know. It just made sense, I looked at the gun and everything fell into place… I don’t know…” Lucia clenched her fists, taking a ragged breath, “Like I knew what I was doing.”

    “Kid, I can’t give you answers I don’t have.” She looked at Bobby just so lost. He wished he could help her, but he knew even less than she did.

     “There’s a lot I don’t understand myself…”

     Bobby left that where it was, making a note to find a way to test them further encase things weren’t quite as they seemed. He was probably just paranoid, but in this line of work paranoia kept you alive.


End file.
